Brushstrokes
by WolfMockingjay
Summary: "Ah, a fabulous world/That can be seen with a swipe of a paintbrush" A series of one-shots centered around various pairings and occasionally their families. Ranging from fluffy to dark.
1. Chapter 1

_"Never wanna stand up for myself_

_Never wanna get in the way, I said it_

_I don't know what the plan is,_

_But you can share with me, 'cause I'll_

_Be listening here,_

_To everything you say, I won't turn away_

_And I will listen, open up my heart and_

_I must say that I love you so"_

_~'I Would Do Anything for You'_ by Foster the People

I Would Do Anything for You (~ GerIta)

Italy slowly rolled out of bed as he felt soft rays of sunlight brush his face. Setting his feet on the cold hardwood floor and stretching his arms above his head, he walked over to his bedroom window. Gazing out, he wasn't too surprised to see that Germany had started training with Japan for the day, and Italy grimaced slightly at the thought of Ludwig reprimanding him for arriving late once again.

"Ve…" Italy sighed softly. As clumsy and oblivious as he came off as, Feliciano was well aware of his spaciness and failure to follow orders. _And_ how frustrated he made Germany. Ludwig wasn't afraid to voice his irritation when Italy did something idiotic. But as he wandered around his bedroom in search of the day's uniform, Feliciano considered his feelings for the German nation. Lately, he found himself feeling extra guilty when he showed up late for training or took a siesta out of unintentional boredom as they went over battle strategies. There was a part of him that sought to please Ludwig⎯even if it meant countless hours of exercise⎯and actually make him proud for once. His heart beat as rapidly as a hummingbird's as Germany's (surprisingly) gentle hands would fix his shoelaces due to Italy's own inability to tie shoes. Feliciano felt countless butterflies in his stomach when Ludwig casually brushed up against him during a cleaning spree while the Italian prepped some pasta for dinner. He found himself noticing Germany's smallest details and quirks, too, like how his blue orbs could alternate between a chilling icy tone and a soft pastel color, depending on his mood. How Germany's favorite pastime curling up with a good book next to the fireplace with his dogs beside him. How perfectly toned his perfectly muscular figure was….particularly his abs….

Yes, Italy concluded that he was falling hopelessly in love with the stoic German.

Jogging from the house over to the field where Germany was having Japan begin running his laps, Feliciano thought of how much he wished to just be able to go up to his love and be enveloped in his strong embrace. To run up to Germany at full speed and admit his love (most likely bursting into tears). Shaking off his daydream, Italy reminded himself that today was not the day. Who knows how Ludwig would react! _He'd probably strangle me, thinking I was pulling a prank on him,_ Italy mused. Feliciano assured himself that someday he would admit his feelings, but right now, he'd focus on improving his athleticism as well as his courage. Because as much as he disliked his morning laps and intense physical training, he would do it for Germany.

As Ludwig caught sight of the nervous Italian, Italy braced himself for a fierce scolding. However, Germany pretended not to notice.

"Start running your ten laps, Italia. I'd like to be finished before lunch," he said in a gruff yet subdued voice, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose in a display of mock annoyance toward Italy.

Thankful for getting off the hook so quickly, Feliciano skipped off to begin his laps, thinking nothing of Germany's out of character demeanor.

Turning his back, Italy was unaware of the timid smile that spread across Germany's face. For, that morning, Germany had been contemplating _his own_ feelings of affection toward the Italian, terribly unsure of how to act on them and terrified that his love did not feel the same way.

**A/N: Yayyy for GerIta! Hope y'all liked this first one :) Terribly short, I know, but that's probably gonna be the pattern here. Just little snippets into their lives, some fluffy, some angsty. I highly suggest listening to the songs that inspired each chapter. I try to make them really connect with a specific character or pairing. I have a long list of songs in mind, but if you have any pairing or character requests, feel free to drop by the reviews! (I'll try to address requests, but I am not familiar with some of the less prevalent characters enough to write them-sorry!). Reviews are very very much appreciated :) Ciao~!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This one is a bit more somber than the last, and I'm trying my hand at writing fics that aren't so….overly fluffy xP Takes place during the Cold War. Human names and country names used. (Not particularly intended to be a romantic pairing, just brotherly)**

"_Oh brother I can't, I can't get through_

_I've been trying hard to reach you, cause I don't know what to do_

_Oh brother I can't believe it's true_

_I'm so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you_

_Oh I wanna talk to you"_

_~'Talk' _by Coldplay

Talk (~Germany &amp; Prussia)

"You have _seven _new messages," trilled the answering machine in Germany's living room. He hadn't been gone that long—only a few hours that day as he attended another NATO meeting—but the abundance of messages was no surprise to the German nation. In fact, he had refused to listen to the previous ones, consistently deleting them, but America had told him at the meeting that they might provide valuable information, so Germany went to face his fears. He sighed, bracing himself for the recordings that he dreaded to hear. Pressing a few buttons, it began a message playback.

The answering machine's speaker crackled a little bit and played the first message."Hey, bruder, it's the...awesome me...again," there was an evident lack of enthusiasm behind the word 'awesome', "I can't stay on the phone for long—I'm afraid Ivan will get suspicious. Heh, actually, I'm not s'posed to be using it in the first place. Latvia was able to hook one up secretly in his bedroom...he's a smart kid. Anyway, I was really hoping that you'd pick up, but I guess I called at a bad time. I've been having these agonizing headaches. It feels like someone is trying to split my skull with a dull axe. I think it has something to do with...well, with what's been going on. I need to talk to you, bruder. I can feel myself slipping away." And with that cryptic plea, the message ceased and was deleted. The ones that followed were from Prussia, as well, but none sounded as...desperate as the first. His voice became increasingly subdued and emotionless, as if he was suppressing his deeper emotions out of apprehension. As if someone might be watching over his shoulder or secretly recording his phone calls.

The final message played, as cold and indifferent as the one that preceded it, and Germany breathed a sigh of slight relief. He tried to focus on the positives: his brother could somewhat keep in contact with him, even if he _was_ technically forbidden to make phone calls, and he was _alive_. But Ludwig had an ominous feeling that Russia was keeping a close eye on the Prussian nation, and keeping in touch would only put Prussia's life in more danger. And what about the last part of the message? Splitting headaches? Yes, Germany was experiencing them too, in fact, and just as severely. Dividing the land into four separate zones after World War II caused the two nations to feel excruciating physical pain, and the brothers yearned for the lands of Germany to be unified once more.

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling one of those notorious headaches coming on, and made his way to the kitchen to brew himself a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

Then, all of a sudden, the doorbell rang, and there was a light knock at the door.

_Oh, wunderbar_, thought Germany, _It's probably America coming to lecture me about his new plans to outdo the Soviet Union in production and technology_. Germany sighed, rolling his eyes at the thought of the immature nation. Upon opening the door, however, he almost didn't see the young girl standing there.

"Hallo, Mister Germany," Liechtenstein said sweetly, her emerald eyes sparkling up at him. She was dressed in a long pink gown with a small purple ribbon affixed in her hair and held a mysterious package, carefully wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string.

"Oh, hallo, Liechtenstein. Please come in, out of the cold. I wasn't expecting you." Something in the back of Germany's mind reminded him to be wary of Switzerland, as her older brother would probably not approve of her travelling so far on her own. He added, "Does your bruder know you came all this way? Here, sit down, I just brewed some tea."

"I told Switzy that I'm running a few errands and that I'd be back in no time. Thank you for the tea," she replied with a bright smile.

Several minutes passed as the pair sipped their tea in Germany's living room and discussed simple things like the weather and different varieties of tea they had come across. Both were very tentative to avoid touchy subjects such as international affairs.

Placing her teacup and saucer on the coffee table in front of her, Liechtenstein began quietly, "Danke for your hospitality, Mister Germany, but I actually came here to give you something."

Germany raised his eyebrows quizzically as the young girl took the wrapped parcel in her hands.

Avoiding Germany's gaze, she explained, "Switzerland has been making sure that I keep up with my study of international politics lately, and I heard about what happened to you and your brother. I'm so very sorry for you two. I don't know what I would do without Switzerland, and I know you both must feel the same." Liechtenstein trailed off, and her wide green eyes were filled with soft tears. "Anyway, whenever I'm sad, I knit or crochet. I like making things for other people, especially matching things. You probably heard about the pink pajama set that I made for my brother?" she said with a small smile. Germany nodded. "I made them so he would have a token to remember me by if we were ever went our separate ways, and my pajamas reminds me of him, in turn."

Then, she motioned for Germany to open the gift.

Removing the light brown paper, Ludwig gasped. A pair of fuzzy black and white mittens sat within the package. Liechtenstein had delicately crocheted a detailed and very accurate Prussian flag.

"I managed to smuggle the other pair to Hungary. She promised to give it to him. Auf Wiedersehen, Mister Germany. I must be getting back home, or Switzy will worry." With that, she turned and left. But Germany did not have to ask about who the other pair of mittens was for, or what they looked like. He had already figured that out.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Prussia sat on the cold floor of Latvia's bedroom with the telephone practically glued to his hand (considering the number of times he had attempted to call his brother). He had finally accepted the fact that Ludwig would not return his calls, but it was still comforting to hear his brother's gruff voice on the answering machine, instructing the caller to leave a message when he was not at home. It provided him _some _comfort. Gilbert heard the floorboards creaking behind him softly.

"Sorry for hogging the phone, Raivis. I mean, really, who am I kidding? I know West is avoiding me. It's a lost cause," he remarked, expecting the youngest Baltic nation. His voice was thick with despair.

"Hello, Prussia," stated a female voice.

Prussia whipped around in shock to face the speaker. "H-Hungary?! Why are you disturbing….me? Can't you see that I'm busy? I don't need to be bothered by your un-awesomeness at the moment." However, Hungary could see that there was no true anger directed toward her in his words. Only sadness. They had barely spoken since they became Soviet satellites, not saying more than a few words as they passed each other in the halls of the mansion.

"I know how much you miss him. Poland told me about how he and the Baltics are trying to conceal from Russia the fact that you're using the phone to call your brother almost every day." Hungary sat down next to him, patting his back softly. She placed a wrapped package in his lap. "It's from Liechtenstein."

Tearing away the paper, Prussia's eyes widened in disbelief. He clutched the soft mittens close to his heart.

"I miss my bruder so much, Hungary. I hate living with Ivan. I...I want to go back to my homeland." Gilbert soon lost his composure and laid his head against Hungary's shoulder to muffle his sobs.

"Shh, it'll be alright. We'll all be okay, and we'll get out of this. Someday, you'll get to see the man whose flag you wear proudly on these mittens. But for right now, we need to be strong."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, readers! Sorry for such a delay on this one :( I've had plenty of ideas and inspiration (surprisingly), but I've been really preoccupied with finals week and such. But that's over! Woohoo! I'd love to give a special thanks to Let-it-lie for your feedback and winterpolo for your continual support of my writing process :) The inspiration for this one is actually incorporated into the fic, but I tweaked the pronouns a bit...let's see how this goes. I'll be working on some longer (and more serious) one-shots, but this is one that just came to me one day when this song came on and it was dying to be written. I suggest listening to the song before/during your reading ;) Enjoy!**

"_My pride still feels the sting_

_You were my everything_

_Some day I'll find a love like yours"_

_~'Fifty Ways to Say Goodbye' _by Train

Fifty Ways to Say Goodbye (~LietPol)

"Liet, you like totally need to get over that her….She was a complete psycho, just like⎯hey! Are to even listening to me?" Poland asked, impatiently.

Lithuania was staring sadly into the amber depths of his beer, deep in thought. After the world meeting, the nations all went out to a local bar for drinks. Including Belarus, who had furiously proclaimed to Lithuania earlier that morning that "she had no interest in dating anyone as depressing and lowly as him since the only one for her was Big Brother Russia". Which only resulted in a frightened Russia and a tearful Lithuania bolting out of the meeting room to be chased by a lovesick Belarus and concerned Poland, respectively.

"I figured that she didn't like me, Po, I just…..I don't know. I just thought that she would like me if we went on a date and got to know each other. What do you think, Feliks?" Lithuania mumbled somberly, but when he looked over, Poland had disappeared.

"Why does no one listen to me…" he muttered, aimlessly tracing circles around his glass.

Poland was whispering to America, who was the DJ. With a devious smile he skipped over to Lithuania. "_We_ are going to dance! C'mon!" he said, dragging his friend to the dance floor. Liet reluctantly complied.

A new song started, and Poland seemed to be quite familiar with the lyrics. Lithuania began to recognize the tune⎯it soundly oddly like a certain Train song that he heard at America's place. _Probably one of those popular breakup songs or something,_ Lithuania mused. _Oh no..._

"Look, Liet, ya gotta forget about her. Loosen up!" he said with a smirk before returning to the lyrics. "You gotta just pretend….

_She went down in an airplane_

_Fried getting suntanned_

_Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand_

_Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes!_

_She met a shark under water_

_Fell and no one caught her_

_You returned everything ya ever bought her_

_Help me, help me, I'm all out of lies_

_And ways to say she died_"

Poland took his friend's hands and spun him around a few times. Laughing softly, Liet decided to continue the song.

"_My pride still feels the sting_

_She was my everything _

_Someday I'll find a love like hers_," he sang as his eyes drifted longingly toward Belarus on the other side of the club (who was currently clawing at the locked door of the bathroom where her brother was hiding).

By the final verses of the song, Poland and Lithuania, joined by several intoxicated nations, sang a duet and danced side by side. Feliks spun him around one last time. Before he crashed his lips into Lithuania's.

**Meh….not my best. One of the lines of the song is she "Got run over by a crappy purple Scion****", and it makes me think of Lithuania 'cuz it's said that he buys used cars ;) I have ****nothing against Belarus, and I'm actually planning one all about her :D Reviews keep me motivated and truly brighten my day. Ciao!~**


	4. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry for not updating in so long, I've been really busy and have a terrible case of writer's block :( Please accept this cookie as an apology! *hands you cookie* This chapter is some adorable Anko Family fluff requested by one of my lovely friends :) Hope ya like it! (I guess it's a little AU because it's portrayed in modern times, rather than in the Viking era when Iceland was little. Country names used!) **

**Translations:**

**lillebror - little brother (Norwegian)**

**Island - Iceland (Norwegian)**

**storebror - big brother (Norwegian)**

**Danmark - Denmark (Norwegian)**

**Danmörk - Denmark (Icelandic)**

"_When you're all alone, we'll be right there!_

_When you're feeling pain, share it with us!_

_When you're feeling blue, we'll drown our sorrows in beer!_

_See that? You're feeling better by the second, yeah!"_

_'Always With You' ~_Hetalia Drama CD (Nordic 5)

Always With You (~Anko Family)

"...and make sure you've stocked up on enough canned fish. It's the best way to bribe Icey when he's misbehaving. Oh, and the puffin needs a bath twice—"

Denmark chuckled, "Stop worrying about it, Norge! It's only for a few days. Besides, the kid loves me!"

Norway rolled his eyes. "With you around, I always have a reason to worry," he muttered under his breath, but the Dane was too oblivious to catch it. Norway began gathering his suitcases together by the doorway but returned to the living room to say goodbye to his _lillebror_. The toddler sat cross-legged on Denmark's couch, adjusting a tiny red bowtie on his trusty pet puffin. Norway knelt down next to him, smiling just slightly.

"_Lillebror_," the Norwegian said gently, softly ruffling the boy's feathery silver hair. Iceland wouldn't look at his brother, but burrowed his face into the puffin's dark feathers.

"Look, _Island_, we talked about this. My boss wants me to travel back to my land for a very important meeting."

"A meeting little brothers can't come to," Iceland recited.

"...yes…"

"And I gotta be real good for Uncle Dan. I knows...I-I just don't want you t-to leave, _storebror_," his voice became shaky, and silent tears trailed down his pale cheeks.

"Hej, Norge? You ready to go? You got a plane to catch," inquired the Dane, disheartened by the scene. Denmark—who was about as graceful as a drunk elephant, mind you—flopped onto the couch and reached his arms out toward the toddler. Iceland only further burst into tears and tried his best to squeeze into the corner of the couch cushions and burrow amongst them.

"I'm leaving, _Island_. Be good for Uncle Danmark," the Norwegian boy said stoically. With that, he was gone. The silver haired boy timidly turned around to face his caretaker. His eyes widened. Iceland looked around frantically, searching desperately for his dearest brother.

"_Storebror_? N-Norway?! Big brother!" he called, growing increasingly hysterical.

"Ice, it's okay. Iceland, listen to me. You're going to be fine," the Dane murmured, attempting to pull the toddler into his lap.

"No! I want my big brother!" yelled Iceland. Denmark held the young boy closer to his chest, but to no avail. Iceland flailed his arms and legs around wildly, managing to hit the Dane quite roughly in the stomach.

"I hate you! I don't wanna stay here! I want my big brother!"

~.~.~.~

Iceland rubbed his eyes once more, red and puffy from crying incessantly after Norway's departure. Mr. Puffin practically suffocated under Iceland's grip as the toddler hugged the bird to his chest. After running from the blond haired Dane for a full ten minutes, Iceland snuck into one of the guest bedrooms and found himself squeezed between a wooden nightstand and the side of a large bed. Denmark eventually gave up on his pursuit, or at least that's what Iceland suspected.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps padded down the hallway, increasing in volume as they reached the door of the guest bedroom. Iceland gasped audibly and scurried underneath the bed, careful not to creak any floorboards or rustle the sheets. His breathing slowed, and his eyelids grew heavy, exhausted from crying. The plush carpet seemed to be an inviting place to take a short nap. Mr. Puffin snuggled up in his side, and….

~.~.~.~

The Icelandic toddler felt himself slowly pulled from his light slumber as a comforting smell met his nostrils. He recognized it…. butter cookies? Norge would make those for him on special occasions—they were his absolute favorite. Yawning, Iceland rubbed the sleep out of his violet eyes. Where was he? And when had he fallen asleep?! He surveyed the room, the deep ocean blue walls gave it a relaxing feel. He laid in a massive canopy bed, snuggled under a fluffy red and white comforter—the Danish flag! Iceland quickly recalled that he was staying with his Uncle Denmark while his _storebror _went to an important meeting.

Taking in the scenery of the Dane's bedroom, something on the nightstand caught the boy's attention. Iceland shuffled over to find a few sheets of blank white paper and a small box of crayons. He smiled slightly as he picked up his supplies and set them on the blankets, fluffling up the pillows behind him and laying down on his stomach. Coloring was his favorite thing to do! Well, besides baking or reading storing with his big brother. Crayons in each hand, the toddler set to work on creating a masterpiece.

"One for Big Brother, one for Puffin, one for Uncle Dan…."

Truth be told, Iceland held no hatred toward the overbearing Dane. His love for his family was even greater than his love for puffins or mackerels, and the silver haired boy felt a little bad for putting up such a fuss for Nor and Dan, so he planned to make it up to them by drawing them pictures.

"Puffin? Where'd ya go?" he asked quietly. His trusty puffin waddled over from his perch on a nest of pillows, nuzzling against his owner. Iceland gave him a pearly white smile. "Let's get to work!"

~.~.~.~

Denmark wiped his flour-dusted hands off on his apron just as the timer went off on the oven. Without thinking, he swung open the oven and grabbed the cookie sheet.

"God fucking damnit!"

Unsurprisingly, he forgo to wear oven mitt. Narrowly avoiding a kitchen floor covered in cookie crumbs, Denmark jerked his hand away without hitting the pan and managed to plunge his hand under a stream of cold water.

_Jeez, that was close. Oh God, Icey better not have heard that! If he says stuff like that around Norge, I'll be decapitated by my own axe,_ Denmark thought nervously to himself, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. _I should probably go check up on the little guy. He'll calm down once he sees the cookies. _

Denmark gently picked up an earlier tray of butter cookies that had cooled and headed upstairs. He smiled gently as he heard the sound of little feet scurrying across the floor by his bedroom accompanied by a soft voice. However, the Icelandic toddler was nowhere to be found.

As he approached his room, Denmark called out "Hey, Ice, I made ya some cookies, thought ya would—wha…..what are ya doin', Icey?"

Iceland scampered over to Denmark's legs and tugged at his apron. "Come see what I made ya, Uncle Dan!" he giggled, tugging him down the hallway. Denmark suppressed a gasp as the pair admired Iceland's work.

"After I use up all da paper that ya gots for me, and I wants to make a real special picture for Uncle Dan! See?" The white hallway now resembled sheets of a child's drawing paper, as Iceland had decorated part of the surface to the left of the doorway to Denmark's bedroom. The makeshift mural depicted a series of scribbles that Denmark deciphered to be stick figures in various scenes.

"There's me and you and Big Brother Nor! Here's you and Norway on a Viking ship going to fight bad guys—you got your axe, too!—and here's me and Big Brother with the trolls and fairies and—oh! Here's me and you!" Iceland explained excitedly. He watched Denmark's expression intently, yearning for his approval. The Dane studied the wall, perhaps contemplating the most efficient cleaning solution or an appropriate punishment for the toddler. Iceland was pointing emphatically at two stick figures who appeared to be holding hands. The taller figure had stripes of neon yellow that resembled hair, and the significantly shorter boy had a scribble of metallic silver for hair. A crimson colored heart encircled them.

The Icelandic boy spoke quietly, finding great interest in peering down at the floor, "Y-You don't like it….do you? I'm s-sorry, I just wanted to make it up to you after...running away earlier… I'm sorry for what I said. I don't hate you. I drew us because I love my Uncle Dan. I thought you could help me finish it. We need Sve and Fin and Puffin, too! You'll always have our family with you."

Denmark sighed and sat down cross legged beside Iceland, taking the toddler into his lap. His expression wasn't furious, but it wasn't exactly elated, either. Iceland braced himself to be reprimanded.

"Ice, crayons go on paper. You should know that. Big kids aren't s'posed to color on the walls" he began. The toddler nodded, laying his head softly against Denmark's chest and murmuring an apology. "But, I'm happy that you'll make up with me. Now, are we gonna finish this mural or what?!"

"Yay! I loves you, _Danmörk_," cheered Iceland, throwing his arms around the older boy.

"Love you too, Ice," he smiled, ruffling the toddler's silvery hair. "But if this is going on _my _wall….we gotta make Sve look really silly!"

~.~.~.~

"Dan, Ice, I'm home!" Norway proclaimed, bracing himself to be tackled by his dear brother and the overexcited Dane.

"Big brother!" Iceland squealed, scampering over and clinging to his brother's legs. "I missed you so much! Dan and I had so much fun! We made cookies, ate cookies, and we even colored on the walls together!"

"Hej, Norge! How was your—ack!" Denmark was cut off by the shorter man pulling his tie _a little _too tightly.

"Dan, care to explain what you two have been doing? Oh, and when I get home and Ice starts coloring on _my _walls, I'm calling _you _to come clean it up." Norway said threateningly. Releasing Denmark's tie, he smiled gently and took Iceland in his arms. "Let's go get some cookies and talk about the trip, _lillebror_."


End file.
